


Landing in Turbulence

by rikyl



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rikyl/pseuds/rikyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny lets Christina think that he’s dating Mindy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Landing in Turbulence

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Immediately following 1.21, then goes AU

“Dr. C, there’s someone in your office for you. She says she’s your ex-wife!”

 

Danny’s good mood evaporated in an instant. “ _Christina?_ ” It couldn’t be. He hadn’t seen her since—

 

But then she appeared, and it was definitely his Christina. She looked good, but formal and polished, like she always had in the lawyers’ offices—not like the comfy woman who used to cuddle up with him on the couch to watch PBS documentaries. He still had trouble connecting the two—this stiff, refined version who had broken his heart to the warm, familiar woman he’d pictured having his sons.

 

“Hey, Danny,” she greeted him, sounding disconcertingly more like the latter.

 

“What are you doing here?” he blurted, suddenly conscious of all the eyes on them. It was one thing to have to see Christina after all these months, out of the blue, when he was unprepared for it. It was another to have to do it front of—he glanced at Mindy, who was looking at him with wide eyes—well, in front of his colleagues.

 

“Um … do you mind if we—could we talk somewhere?” Christina asked.

 

“Okay.” The part of him that didn’t want the audience was suddenly battling with the part of him that didn’t want to be alone with her. “Okay. Let’s, uh, let’s go back in my office.”

 

He followed her in and closed the door, and they stood there awkwardly for a moment, as he got increasingly frustrated. This is what they’d had lawyers for, so they’d never have to talk to each other directly again.

 

“What are you doing here?” he repeated.

 

“I’m sorry to just drop by like this,” she said. “You weren’t returning my calls.”

 

“I was out of town over the weekend,” Danny said stiffly. “I didn’t know you called.”

 

“Oh … I thought it was because you still hated my guts.”

 

She looked so vulnerable just then, and there had been a time when a look like that would have made him reach out to her, but Danny refused to let it get to him. He crossed his arms over his chest, letting the words hang in the air. It wasn’t _not_ true.

 

“Okay. Well, I deserve that, I guess,” she said quietly. “I know I treated you badly, and I’m sorry about what happened. I’m sorry about everything.”

 

He raised his eyebrows at her, to mask the fact that the old wound was opening up, right in the middle of his chest where his ability to speak was located. This is what she’d come here for, for an _apology,_ after all this time? Yep, this closure thing was for chumps and masochists, all right.

 

“You look good. The practice looks like it’s doing really well,” she continued, with an uncertain smile. “How are you, Danny? I was worried about you, after everything. I know you didn’t take it well.”

 

Danny grunted. How was he supposed to have taken it? And how would she even know? It’s not like she was _there_. She left.

 

“Yeah, no, I’m great. I’m over it.”

 

“Really?”

 

She sounded hopeful, and what was he supposed to say? Whatever would get her out of his office fastest, he supposed.

  
“Yeah, sure, why not? Time heals all wounds, right?” Actually, time seemed to be really letting him down here. With her standing in front of him again, the hurt and anger seemed as acute as ever. “Yeah, anyway, I’m fine. I’m dating, I’m out there. I’ve moved on.”

 

“Oh. That’s good, Danny. I’m glad to hear it. Really.”

 

She looked genuinely relieved. Well, great, just what he’d wanted—to ease her guilty conscience. Not that he wanted her to think he was still pining for her, either. See? A lose-lose situation.

 

“Anyone in particular?” Christina asked. “Not that it’s any of my business …”

 

“Anyone …?” Danny was taken aback for a moment, until he realized Christina was taking him literally about the moving on thing. And he _had_ moved on, several times—he didn’t want her to think he hadn’t. “Oh, yeah, there’s someone. She’s, um …”

 

Suddenly he was blanking on every woman he knew. Eyepatch. Eyepatch wasn’t a name. “Mindy!” he blurted, too loudly. Loud enough that Mindy probably heard her name, if she was still in the lobby area. Panicked, he threw open the door.

 

There she was, along with Betsy, Jeremy, and Morgan, who all looked like they’d been caught gossiping or eavesdropping or both.

 

“Doesn’t anyone have work to do?” He glared at them, before catching Mindy’s eye. “Mindy, do you have a second to come in here?”

 

“Um, sure?” Mindy agreed uncertainly.

 

When she had joined them, he closed the door, and Mindy gave him a questioning look and then smiled graciously at Christina. “Hi, I’m Dr. Mindy Lahiri. You must be the famous Christina. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

 

Danny looked nervously between the two of them, wondering how this was going to go. If he could just quickly think of a different reason he had called Mindy into the room—

 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Christina was saying meanwhile, extending a hand, which Mindy accepted. “I hope this isn’t too awkward.”

 

“Awkward?”

 

“You know, ex-wife meeting new girlfriend. I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, or that I’d be meeting you today. How long have you and Danny been dating?”

 

Mindy gave Danny a startled look, and he briefly considered throwing her back out of the office. How would _that_ look, though?

 

“Three months!” he said quickly instead. He moved to put a hand on Mindy’s back but thought better of it and dropped it back down to his side. “She just looks surprised because she doesn’t think I can remember anniversaries. Three months as of yesterday, right, Min?”

 

He shot her a quick desperate look, hoping she’d just go along. If this one time, she could manage to be _actually_ be helpful instead of making his life more difficult … as it was, she was probably going to give him hell for this later.

 

“Oh! Yeah, three months! Right,” Mindy said after a slight delay, and Danny gave her a small grateful smile. “Sorry, I’m just a little slow today. It’s because I was up all night … because of all the sex, you know how it is.”

_Too much_ , Danny tried to convey with his eyes.

 

Mindy made a small questioning gesture with her hands, like _what do you want me do?_

 

Maybe he should take it from here. “Yeah, Mindy and me, that’s happening, so. It’s early, but it’s getting kind of serious, three months in, that’s … yeah, that’s pretty serious. Anyway, I’m good, I’ve moved on, as you can see. Now you know.”

 

There, was that enough closure? Could she possibly go now?

 

“I’m really happy for you, Danny, and you, Mindy, you seem … great!” Christina said. She seemed flustered—so maybe she wasn’t so fine with him moving on after all. Served her right for leaving him. What did she think was going to happen?

 

Christina took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m actually relieved because I have some news to share myself, and this makes it a little easier.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny noticed Mindy stepping slightly closer to him. It was almost like she knew something was coming, which was crazy, because he didn’t.

 

“Paul … you remember Paul, right?” Christina continued, more nervously.

 

“I remember Paul,” Danny said through gritted teeth. He remembered finding Paul _in bed with his wife_.

 

Mindy moved closer still and her hand bumped up against his.

 

“Paul and I are getting married. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I didn’t want you to hear from someone else.”

 

Mindy’s fingers wrapped around his, which was good, because he really needed something to squeeze right now. It was like the turbulence, all over again, nausea and everything. He glanced down at her, and she met his eyes, looking worried.

 

“That’s great news, isn’t it, Danny … hon?”

 

“Uh-huh,” he managed, numbly. “Great news.” Mindy stroked her thumb against his hand reassuringly, and he was suddenly profoundly grateful she was there right now, humiliating as this was.

 

As he was floundering for something to say that he wouldn’t regret later, she turned to Christina and started filling in the awkward silence. “April in New York … that’s such a romantic time to get engaged. Unless he proposed on April Fool’s Day. That would be _so_ not funny. He didn’t do that, did he? Are you sure you’re even engaged?”

 

“No, no, I’m sure,” Christina said, with a small, confused laugh. She looked about just as relieved as he felt that someone in the room was doing the talking.

 

“That’s good, that’s so wonderful for you.” Mindy exchanged another glance with him. He shrugged helplessly, and she babbled onward. “Have you started planning yet? Where are you registered? I’ve read that it’s good to register at multiple price points. Ivanka Trump, for example, registered at Tiffany’s _and_ Williams-Sonoma.”

 

“Oh, it’s early, we haven’t really … and I don’t think we’ll register anywhere. It being a second wedding, you know.”

 

Christina met his eyes for a moment, looking uncomfortable and genuinely apologetic. That was the thing about Christina—she always managed to look like she cared, even when was hurting you. It made it hard to hate her completely, and not being able to hate her made it hard to be okay with this situation.

 

“Right … right, I feel you on that, that makes sense,” Mindy was saying, but he’d forgotten what she was referring to. “Okay, well, Danny and I have patients, but we’re really happy for you, and glad you stopped by!”

 

Oh, thank god. Mindy was getting rid of her for him. He knew there was a good reason he had her come in here.

 

“Of course … I should be going,” Christina said. “It was good to see you, though, Danny. And I’m glad we got to meet, Mindy.”

 

Danny nodded, and Christina stepped toward the door, but she turned around again before she was fully out.

 

Now what?

 

Christina shook her head, looking embarrassed and emotional. “I’m sorry. I just keep thinking this might be the last time I’m ever going to see you, and it still feels so … I can’t think of the word I want. Unfinished, I suppose.”

 

“Well, the marriage license said we were going to be together for … let’s see if I can remember … oh yeah, _forever_ ,” Danny grumbled. “So, yeah, I’d say that was unfinished.”

 

Seriously, if she said the word _closure_ , he might have to call security. They weren’t in a storybook. They weren’t going to get a neat little ending, all wrapped in a bow.

 

“Actually … this is probably really weird, and you can say no, but I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d want to get some dinner sometime?” Christina glanced awkwardly at Mindy, as if she’d just remembered she was there too. “Mindy too, of course. The four of us, maybe!”

 

“Why?” Danny asked, rocking up onto his toes and then back down again. “Why would we do that?”

 

Christina shrugged self-consciously. “I know we didn’t leave on the best of terms … but now Paul and I are trying to start a new life together, and it’s difficult with that ugliness hanging over us over how we started. Maybe it would be good for us if we could all sit down over a friendly dinner and leave the past behind. Make a clean break. Is that a terrible idea?”

 

For a moment, all Danny could do was gape at her. _Yes_ , that was a terrible idea.

 

 “Closure!” Mindy exclaimed excitedly, and he wondered momentarily if he could get security to throw _her_ out of the building. He tried to shake his head at her, but she wasn’t paying attention. “Danny and I were just talking about that a few days ago, how it’s good to have closure so that you can forgive and accept and move forward and all that. I think that would be a great idea. We’d love to come.”

 

“You would … really?” Christina asked, sounding skeptical even though this was her idea.

 

“Sure, we can do that, right, Danny?” Before he could protest, she was opening the door and walking Christina out, and he hurried to catch up with them before Mindy could agree to anything stupid. “Do you know that pizza place that Danny likes, not the one where you guys met and carved your names on the table, but the other one, the really nice one?”

 

Just as he was opening his mouth to nip this thing in the bud, the memory overwhelmed him: a much younger Christina, with long hair and a tight tank top that showed off the tattoo she had on her upper back, tracing her fingers over the letters he’d carved on the tabletop. She had a bit of tomato sauce on the corner of her lip, which he’d used as an excuse to kiss her.

 

“I think I know which one you’re talking about,” Christina was saying, turning around to shoot Danny a questioning look.

 

“How about tomorrow, say, 8?” Mindy suggested.

 

“I think that works for us,” Christina said. “If that’s really okay …”

 

“Sure, it’s fine. Don’t mind, Danny. He’s just jet-lagged.”

 

They had reached the elevator door. Mindy pressed the button, and the door opened immediately.

 

Looking slightly shell-shocked, Christina stepped onto the elevator. “Okay. I guess I’ll see you then?”

 

“Great. Bye!” Mindy said, almost gleefully.

 

Danny stared after his ex-wife as the doors shut, realizing too late what had just happened.

 

“She’s pretty,” Mindy commented. “Taller than I thought she would be.”

 

Danny glared at her, his mouth open, then grabbed her arm and pulled her back into his office. All of his frustration was still bubbling near the surface, and he was finally alone with someone who didn’t leave him too tongue-tied to fully express it.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded as soon as he shut the door.

 

“God, Danny, could you be a little more grateful? I’m helping you out. I’m playing your smart, sexy doctor girlfriend so that you can rub your success in your engaged ex-wife’s face. This was your idea.”

 

“This wasn’t my idea.”

 

She looked at him disbelievingly. “They why did you tell her I was your girlfriend?”

 

“I don’t know. I accidentally told her I’d moved on with someone, and she wanted to know who, and yours was the first name I thought of. Probably because I just talked to you.”

 

He really hoped she wasn’t going to read too much into that.

 

“You didn’t think of Alex first? You guys just broke up, like, two weeks ago.”

 

He glared at her again. “This was not supposed to be an ongoing arrangement or anything. We are not going to dinner with them. No way.”

 

“Are you kidding me? She’s never going to believe I’m your girlfriend based on _that_ performance. Give me an evening. I’ll bring my A game. She’ll never know what hit her.”

 

“No! Mindy, this isn’t some low-rent movie where we play dress-up and the music swells and someone falls over.”

 

“Okay, you’re going to have to narrow it down to something more specific. I have no idea what movie you’re talking about from that description.”

 

 “Mindy. This is my _life_.”

 

“And it’s going _really_ well.” Infuriatingly, she put her hand on her hip, and he resisted the urge to physically put it somewhere else. “Anyway, you can’t back out. You told her I was your girlfriend, and I told her we’d be there. Girlfriend-made commitments are binding.”

 

“Luckily for us, she doesn’t follow Mindy logic. We’ll cancel. I’ll tell her you forgot … we have dinner plans with your parents that night or something.”

 

“My parents live in Concord.”

 

“She doesn’t know that. Or, my mom, then.”

 

“I get to meet your mom?” Mindy seemed oddly interested in that idea. He couldn’t even imagine how that would go, the image was so absurd.

 

“No. That’s what I’m going to tell her.”

 

“She’ll know something’s up.”

 

“She’ll know I don’t want to have dinner with her. Which I _don’t_.”

 

“Or, she’ll know you made up a girlfriend so that you would look like you’re over her, when you’re not.”

 

Danny sighed and rapped his knuckles on his desk in frustration. She was right, it would look like that. Christina was probably already suspicious—he and Mindy hardly made a convincing couple—and cancelling now would just confirm those suspicions. He’d look pathetic. And she’d feel bad about it—worse, she’d feel _sorry_ for him—and he hated that idea more than anything.

 

He put his hands in his hair and made a face.

 

“Fine, I’ll think about it. But you’re going to pay for this.”

 

“ _I’m_ the one doing _you_ a favor,” she reminded him.

 

“If this is what being your friend means, I wouldn’t want to be your enemy.”

 

She punched him playfully in the arm. “It’ll be good. You’ll see. You’ll feel better after this.”

 

Somehow, he seriously doubted that.

 

“Did you feel better after seeing Josh in Sante Fe?”

 

Mindy tilted her head to one side, considering. “You know, I did. Because I found out how awful he really was, and I realized I’m better off without him, even if he hadn’t had another girlfriend.”

 

“But you already knew that,” Danny pointed out. “And anyway, that was different. He was addicted to cocaine.”

 

“You’re right,” she said sympathetically. “They can’t all be drug addicts.”

 

He actually laughed a little at that.

 

“Okay, well, we really do have patients.” She put her hand on his arm. “You going to be okay, Danny?”

 

He looked down at his arm where her hand was—it was the first time she’d touched him since the airplane, or rather, the first time he hadn’t been distracted by Christina—and it took him a moment after he opened his mouth for anything to come out. “Yeah … um, yeah. I’m okay.”

 

“Good.” She squeezed gently before letting go, then turned to open the door. He stared after her, involuntarily touching the place where her hand had been, and wondering what he had gotten himself into.

 

***

 

Danny avoided his coworkers as much as possible over the next two days, spending more time than strictly necessary with his eyes closed and his stethoscope in his ears. There was something about the heartbeats of fetuses—quick and steady and full of potential—and it calmed him, even as it reminded him of what he didn’t have.

 

In between, he played the _Tunnel of Love_ and _Blood Brothers_ albums on repeat instead of sleeping. By the time he reached Mindy’s door on Tuesday night, he was both keyed up and exhausted.

 

As he waited for Mindy to open up, he leaned against the doorframe, still having a silent argument with himself over whether he should or shouldn’t go through with this tonight. Basically, he _shouldn’t_ —that was obvious. But somehow, he was here anyway.

 

Mindy opened her door finally, her hair in giant rollers.

 

“You’re way early,” she said accusingly. “We have half an hour!”

 

“I was feeling antsy,” Danny said, moving past her into her apartment. “And I had to see what you’re wearing.”

 

He hadn’t actually given that any thought, but he didn’t want to admit he was here just because he didn’t want to pace alone in his apartment any longer.

 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

 

Her dress had polka dots and a short skirt that flared out at the hips.

 

“Nothing,” Danny said, lingering on the view of her legs for a moment. “It’s not too bad, actually.”

 

“Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” she said. “It’s a good thing you rushed over here to save me from embarrassing myself.”

 

“It’s fine. I like it.” He shrugged sheepishly, choosing to focus on this inconsequential detail instead of talking about anything that mattered. “Do you have anything else?”

 

“I thought you said you liked it,” she said.

 

“I do, but tonight you’re playing a part. The ‘smart, sexy doctor girlfriend,’ remember? Polka dots aren’t going to cut it.” He started walking to her closet, and she followed him.

 

“You have a surprising interest in fashion for a guy who’s never seen _Project Runway_ ,” she commented as he flipped through her dresses.

 

“I just know what looks good on a woman. This.” He pulled out a low-cut red dress that would hug her curves and still show off her legs. “You should wear this.”

 

She took the hanger from him. “Okay, turn around.”

 

He faced away from her, hearing the swish of fabric as she took one dress off and put the other one on. It occurred to him this wasn’t the first time he’d been in her closet. He hadn’t been in any other women’s closets since Christina, and he hadn’t really spent much time in hers either. It was certainly smaller than this one.

 

“We should prepare, maybe,” he said.

 

“Prepare?”

 

Hearing the sound of a zipper, he turned around in time to help her zip it up to the top. He smoothed the fabric across her shoulders and snatched his hands away as she turned around.

 

For a moment, he forgot what he’d been saying.

 

“Better?” she asked.

 

“You look great. Aside from the rollers, but I assume you have a plan there.”

 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Thank you, Danny. Now what do you think we should do to prepare?”

 

“Oh. Since we have a little time, I was thinking maybe we should just make sure we know details that people in relationships would know.” Mindy nodded as she moved out of the closet, and he followed her out to the bathroom and stood in the hallway while she started messing with her hair. “It’s probably most important that you know things about me, because she’ll know those things.” 

 

“Okay. Quiz me,” Mindy said, as she took the rollers out. The long black hair fell down her back, and it wasn’t so much curly as just … really pretty looking.

 

“Oh, okay. My mom’s name—”

 

“Is Alice. She was a hotel maid, now retired, and your brother’s Richie. He’s a carpenter. Next.”

 

“Right.” Danny was momentarily surprised she remembered all that. “And your brother’s name is Rishi, the rapper/Harvard student.”

 

“You don’t get points for knowing that. You met him.”

 

 “This isn’t about _points_ ,” he said, although he wondered fleetingly if they were keeping score, who would win. “Do I know your parents’ names?”

 

“Shreya and Rahul. They’re both doctors.”

 

“Shree-ah and Ra-hool,” he repeated carefully, even though he doubted that was going to come up. It seemed good to know. “Okay, um … food preferences. We’ll be at a restaurant, so that might be important.”

 

“Easy. You like thick bread, salty meats, cheeses that don’t have funny names. Onions and peppers, yes. Mushrooms, no.” He met her eyes in the mirror. “What? You order a lot of sandwiches to the office.”

 

“It’s almost like we’re actually dating,” he joked.

 

“Or like we’re actually friends,” she tossed back, and there was something about the casual way she said it that made him feel momentarily better—still like he was going into battle, but with an ally. Of sorts.

 

She put her lipstick on and puckered her lips briefly in the mirror. “Okay, almost ready.”

 

Mindy ducked into her closet again and brought out a couple shoeboxes. First she put on a very sexy but completely ridiculous pair, which put her almost at the same level as him. Standing in the hallway next to him, she looked at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, considering.

 

“No, you’re not tall enough,” she said, discarding them and sliding on the lower-heeled contents of the other box. She glanced at their reflection again. “Perfect.”

 

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“I just like to be shorter than my dates. It makes me feel like the girl.”

 

“The fact that you’re the one in heels doesn’t make you feel like the girl? This isn’t even a real date.”

 

“The shoes don’t know that, though.”

 

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

 

“These will be easier to walk in anyway.”

 

“Can’t argue with that,” Danny muttered, wandering away into her kitchen. He opened the cupboard where she kept the liquor and took out a bottle, pouring himself a shot.

 

“You going to be okay?” Mindy asked, making her concerned face again. He’d been getting that a lot since Christina had showed up the day before.

 

He held up the bottle. “Liquid courage. So what made you think it was a good idea to pick one of my favorite restaurants?”

 

She furrowed her brow. “Oh … I just thought you’d want to be somewhere you’re comfortable. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

 

“It’s too late. They’re meeting us.” Danny shook his head and took another gulp. “But now I won’t be able to eat there without thinking of this night. There’ll be associations.”

 

“Oh. Ohhh. I should have thought of that. I’ll fix it, okay? Hold on.” She whipped out her phone and did something.

 

“What did you just do?”

 

“I fixed it. I just texted Christina and told her I meant the Italian place in the 300th block, not the 400th.”

 

“How do you even have Christina’s number?”

 

She grinned at him. “From your phone. Girlfriend privileges.”

 

“Hey. Don’t think you can get away with that now.”

 

She shrugged her shoulders, smirking cutely. For some reason that made him think of her actual boyfriend.

 

“So, what does Casey think about this, us going out tonight? What’d you tell him?”

 

“I told him the truth. He’s fine with it. He doesn’t get jealous, remember? Something about God and faith.”

 

“Sounds nice,” Danny mumbled. He leaned against the counter, the liquor making him feel pensive. “So you think I might need some closure about Christina,” he said.

 

Mindy took the bottle from his hand and put it away. She looked at him for a moment, her smirk gone. “You need _something_ , right?” she said quietly, leaning against the counter next to him. “It’s been a while, and it seems like you might not be completely over her, is all.”

 

Danny nodded his head slowly, folding his arms. “I just don’t think about her mostly, and that seems to work.”

 

“Yeah, like it worked with Alex?”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re going to go there? You’re going to bring up Alex?”

 

“No, you’re right. Sorry,” she said, wincing.

 

He thought for a moment. “I suppose you think if I were over Christina, I wouldn’t have kept her a secret from Alex. But you’re wrong. Because I wasn’t keeping her a secret. It just never came up.”

 

“Oh, you never had a conversation about past relationships, or she never wondered why a handsome doctor was still single in his 40s?”

 

“I’m in my 30s,” he corrected her, exasperated.

 

“ _Late_ 30s.”

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe, I don’t know … there were times when it could have come up.”

 

“So you’re saying I’m right.”

 

“No, I’m saying … I don’t know.” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think she liked me much anyway.”

 

“Of course she liked you. She just didn’t like that you lied to her.”

 

“I think she liked my apartment,” he mumbled, glancing at his watch. “Anyway, if we’re doing this, we’d better get going.”

 

Mindy didn’t immediately move, and he turned his head to find her watching him intently. “Are we doing this?”

 

She was actually asking. Oh, suddenly he had a choice?

 

Danny shrugged and made his way to the door, already having resigned himself. And maybe she _was_ right, how should he know? He’d been thinking about this for almost two days straight, and he had no idea.

 

Mindy followed him, and he held up her coat for her before shrugging into his own jacket, then held the door open as she walked through. She raised her eyebrows at him, impressed, and he shrugged—if they were going to play at being in a relationship, they might as well start practicing now.

 

“I think this’ll be good. You’ll see,” Mindy said once they were outside, but with a lack of bravado this time, and it didn’t do much to inspire confidence in him about what they were doing. But when they reached the sidewalk she reached out and squeezed his hand briefly in friendly encouragement, and it was nice.

 

When she withdrew the contact almost as quickly as she’d offered it, he reached for her hand back and held onto it, defiantly. She glanced at him sideways, and he thought he noticed a slight catch in her breathe, but she didn’t do anything to take it away again.

 

“Turbulence,” he mumbled by way of explanation, and she nodded, accepting that.

 

It was the third time in as many days that he and Mindy had held hands—he wondered what Casey would think if he knew that. But there was something reassuring and comfortable about it, and he didn’t want to give it too much thought.

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, until Mindy cleared her throat. “So this Paul guy. You’ve met him before?”

 

“ _Met_ is putting kind of a positive spin on it,” Danny said.

 

She glanced at him curiously. “How do you know him?”

 

He grunted. “I know him as the guy who broke up my marriage.”

 

She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared. “ _Danny_! This is the guy she cheated on you with while you were married?”

 

He nodded.

 

“And now she’s marrying him?” It seemed like a rhetorical question, so he just stood there. “Scumbag,” she said, putting her hand on her hip, but for once the disapproval it indicated didn’t seem to be directed at him.  “How did you find out?”

 

“I walked in on them.”

 

She whipped out her phone again, and he put a hand on her arm. “What are you doing?”

 

“I’m pulling the plug on this, Danny. I’ll say you have an emergency C-section. That’s the advantage of being a doctor—you get to get out of stuff like this.”

 

“You thought this was a good idea,” he pointed out.

 

“That was before I knew this! Why didn’t you ever say anything? How do I know what kind of bread you like, but I don’t know this?”

 

“I guess I don’t usually put information about who slept with my wife on my sandwich order.”

 

“We’re _friends,_ Danny, so you have to tell me stuff now. Anyway, we can’t have a friendly dinner with the scumbag who broke up your marriage. What was I thinking? I should never have agreed to this without talking to you first.” She lowered her voice, almost talking to herself now. “Casey’s right, I really can be thoughtless and self-involved sometimes.”

 

Danny flinched. “Casey sounds like he might be a self-righteous prick. You’re trying to help a friend. Nothing wrong with that.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

“He is sometimes. But he’s a funny, charming self-righteous prick, and I find that really confusing.”

 

Danny nodded. “I get that.”

 

She held up the phone. “It’s up to you. Say the word, and I’ll cancel.”

 

Danny made a face, turning half away from her. “She’ll know something’s up, that I chickened out or something. She’s smart like that. Perceptive.”

 

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what she thinks, Danny.”

 

That was true. And yet … one of the worst things about what had happened was that he’d never gotten to talk to her—never gotten to find out _what had happened_. They had all these plans, and she’d just thrown them away, suddenly and with no explanation. Why would she do that to him? Why for _this_ guy? Who even was this woman he’d been married to all those years?

 

If he walked away now, he’d never know. He needed to go—not for closure, closure was for wimps and Don Henley fans—just to _know_.

 

He couldn’t believe he was going to say this.

 

“I think we should do it. I think … I don’t know, maybe you were right. I should do this.”

 

He just hoped she wasn’t going to rub it in his face.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Yeah … I mean, no I’m not sure. But yeah.”

 

They started walking again, and this time she was the one who reached for his hand first.

 

As they approached the pizza place, Mindy suddenly stopped and tugged his arm toward her. “Quick, I want you to put your hand on my hip and lean down toward me. Whisper something in my ear.”

 

“Why, what’s happening?”

 

“I’m doing you a favor, silly.”

 

Confused, he did as she said and leaned in close to her ear. “Are they nearby or something?”

 

“I can see them coming toward us,” she murmured. “Look like you’re really into me.” She giggled suddenly, tossing her head back like he’d just said something really funny or dirty or something. He did his best not to turn around and look.

 

“Danny,” she said more loudly, in an exaggerated sing-songy voice. Then she pulled him by the edges of his coat so they were nose to nose and kissed him flirtatiously on the cheek. His fingers unconsciously flew up to the spot, and she made a show of wiping away her lipstick with her thumb.

 

“You okay?” she asked more quietly, right next to his ear. He nodded, not sure yet if he should be annoyed at her for making him more flustered than ever, or grateful for the distraction.

 

Mindy pretended to notice their dinner companions for the first time, and he turned around to face them. “There they are! Hello again, Christina, it’s good to see you. And you must be Paul.”

 

She sounded perfectly friendly to the untrained ear, but Danny was pretty sure he could detect an edge of iciness to her tone that hadn’t been there the previous morning. She squeezed his hand, and he smiled at her in spite of everything, once again surprised at how glad he was that she was there. Not that he’d be in this situation at all without her, but still.

 

Christina smiled uncertainly, looking nervously between Danny and Paul.

 

Danny sized up the other man. He was taller, which was annoying, but he had glasses that didn’t even look like they were prescription. It was hard to take a guy like that seriously.

 

Paul extended his hand to Danny. “Good to see you again, Danny,” he said stiffly.

 

Danny shook the offered hand. “Good to see you _clothed_ this time, Paul.”

 

Christina and Paul exchanged an uncomfortable glance. “Shall we go in?” Paul said.

 

“After you,” Danny said mock-graciously.

 

He held the door for Mindy, who looked like she was trying not to giggle behind her hand. Her eyes flashed with approval, and he smiled at her.

 

Maybe this was going to be okay. This was the thing he had feared the most, and it was in progress, and it was okay so far.

 

Two minutes in.

 

They sat down at the table, and Paul immediately asked for wine. The waitress who seated them glanced around the table, and they all nodded. More alcohol—that should make this evening at least slightly more bearable.

 

The conversation stuck to bland topics for a while—the number of rainy days they’d had in a row, the way the Mets were playing, work. Christina was being Christina—soft-spoken, intelligent, awkward and endearing—but he mostly managed not to be endeared by her. Paul, for his part, seemed as uncomfortable as Danny felt, and it served him right. He was a history PhD, which Danny might have found interesting, but in this situation, it was hard to think of him as anything other than the guy he’d caught in bed with his wife.

 

Where Paul was lacking, Mindy more than compensated. She was almost better than the alcohol as a conversational lube—always coming up with an anecdote to fill an uncomfortable lull or finding (mostly) tactful ways to steer the conversation away from more treacherous topics. He never thought he’d be grateful for her babbling, but… he had to allow it had its occasional practical applications. Heck, in this weird alternate version of reality, he was almost _proud_ of her—like he’d won the moving-on contest between him and Christina.

 

Throughout, she kept smiling at him and touching him and saying nice things about him, and he knew it was pretend, but it was nice. Not because it was _Mindy_. Because he was sitting across from the love of his life who’d handed him the ultimate rejection, and even the pretense of being desirable to someone else made him feel a little better. There were moments when an exchanged glance or a hand on his knee made him feel warm all over, in spite of everything.

 

“Mindy,” Christina said as dinner wound down, and she neared the end of her second glass of wine, “I have to say, you’re nothing like what I expected.”

 

“Well, that doesn’t make any sense,” Mindy pointed out. “You didn’t know I existed until yesterday.”

 

Christina laughed self-consciously. “No, I mean, you’re just not like anyone I would have ever pictured Danny being with.”

 

“Thanks?” Danny said, making a face.

 

“Yeah, I’m not sure if that was a slam on you or me,” Mindy said, with a smile that took most of the sting out of her words.

 

Christina laughed again, and he wondered how he’d never noticed what a grating laugh she had. There was something unnatural and joyless about it. She hadn’t always had that laugh, but it sounded familiar enough that Danny knew tonight wasn’t the first time he’d heard it either. How long before the divorce had he stopped hearing her real laugh?

 

“No, I’m sorry how that sounded. That came out all wrong,” Christina said, obviously flustered. “I think it’s just that you’re so, well, that you’re so unlike _me_. And I know that’s dumb, it’s not like I thought he was going to fall for someone exactly like me or anything. I just … you know, it’s weird meeting your replacement, is all.”

 

“Tell me about it, right, Paul?” Danny muttered.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mindy said, laughing in a way that sounded genuine and friendly, even in the circumstances. “Danny took a while to come around on me too, didn’t you, Danny?” She put a hand on his arm and smiled at him with what seemed almost like genuine affection. She was good at this—she was almost fooling _him_.

 

“That’s interesting,” Christina said. “How did you two get together? If you don’t mind me asking.”

 

“No, we don’t mind, do we, Mindy?” Danny said. He stretched an arm across the back of her chair, his fingers lightly resting on her bare shoulder. She wasn’t the only one who could pretend.

 

“You know I love hearing you tell this story,” Mindy said mischievously, and he raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“We met at work, obviously,” Danny began, trying to figure out exactly how he wanted to tell this.

 

“Obviously,” agreed everyone at the table.

 

“And … it’s true, we didn’t really get along at the beginning,” he continued.

 

“I thought he was really arrogant and rude, and he thought I was chubby and annoying,” Mindy piped up.

 

Danny shook his head, glaring at her slightly for making him sound like an asshole. “That’s not what I thought,” he mumbled. “But you’re right, I was really rude to you at times. I was going through … well, you all know what I was going through.” And Mindy hadn’t exactly made his divorce easier by waltzing around yodeling about soulmates.

 

He cleared his throat. “Anyway … somehow in spite of everything, she wormed her way into my life, and …  before I knew it, we were friends. And I realized what a good person she is. How really thoughtful and generous she can be with other people.”

 

Belatedly, he realized he might still be harboring some annoyance at her prick pastor boyfriend for the things he’d been saying to her. He just wanted it on the record that pastor boy was wrong on some things.

 

“Danny,” Mindy exclaimed beside him. “Stop it. You really think that?”

 

Christina and Paul were giving them a weird look, and he realized how odd that must sound, for the woman he was “dating” to be surprised he thought she was a good person. But fuck what they thought.

 

“Yeah, sure I do,” he said directly to Mindy. “You take care of your brother. You take on the uninsured patients. You were going to read that sappy 17-page speech at the Christmas party. And … you know, you’ve been a good friend to me.”

 

Mindy leaned over to give him a kiss on his cheek, and Danny could feel himself turning red. Time to cut himself off the wine maybe.

 

“Don’t leave us hanging,” Paul said. “Then what happened?”

 

Was Paul a schoolgirl? It occurred to Danny that if an intruder ever entered Paul’s apartment, he’d be a dead man. It was becoming increasingly difficult to feel threatened by the guy.

 

“Paul’s kind of a sap,” Christina filled them in, with an affectionate glance in her fiancé’s direction. “He really likes romantic stories. But you don’t have to …”

 

Paul shrugged sheepishly. “It’s part of being an historian. I like to know how things happen. You’d be surprised how much of history has been shaped by minor inclinations of—”

 

“Yeah, that’s great, Paul.” Mindy waved him off, in that dismissive way that was usually directed at Danny. “But it’s really not that interesting … not that romantic of a story. We were friends who got together. The end!”

 

Danny turned to Mindy again. “ _You_ have a warped view of romance. Friends who fall for each other is a perfectly romantic story.”

 

“Let’s hear it, then,” Paul said. “How did you become more than friends?”

 

“Well …” Danny started, considering his options. He went with the first thing that sprang to mind, editing the timeline to fit. “We were attending a medical conference … three months ago. We were flying back and watching a movie together.” Glancing sideways at Mindy, he noticed now she was watching him intently. “And there was turbulence. And she grabbed my hand.”

 

“I didn’t grab your hand. You grabbed _my_ hand,” she corrected him.

 

“You grabbed my hand _first_ ,” he countered.

 

“I was just grabbing the armrest, and your hand was _there_.”

 

“You see what I have to put up with? Anyway … we ended up holding hands. And it was nice, and it felt weird … but nice. Sometimes, you just get a feeling, and you know it fits. And I didn’t want to stop holding her hand.”

 

He shrugged, self-consciously, and glanced nervously at Mindy again. She was staring at him like she’d never seen him before.

 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she said quietly.

 

“Did you feel something?” he asked, almost under his breath to her. The thing that happened on the airplane, he didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t really know what it meant, if it had even meant anything, but whatever it was it had at least seemed _mutual_. And for the ten seconds he saw her at work before Christina barged in, it felt like something had shifted, subtly, and with everything going on, he hadn’t put his finger on what or how.

 

Mindy nodded, mutely. Danny answered her nod with one of his own, then shrugged and looked around the table, trying to diffuse the moment.

 

“That was a really lovely story, Danny,” Christina said, with a warmth that sounded more like the woman he fell in love with, all those years ago. “I suppose you already know our how-we-met story,” she added, nodding at Paul with an awkward laugh.

 

Danny shook his head. “I don’t, really. Unless Paul here was naked when you met. Sorry, Paul.”

 

“No! God, no,” Christina said, with that awkward laugh again. “But you don’t want to hear that story. Do you?”

 

Danny froze for a moment as he thought about that, about the fact that this would double as the story of how she fell _out_ of love with _him_.

 

“ _Want_ is a strong word. But, I’m here.” He shrugged uncertainly toward Mindy, and she nodded approvingly. “Yeah, okay, rip off the bandage. I can take it. Let’s hear it—you and Paul.”

 

“Oh. Okay.” Christina looked startled. She had a long drink of wine and took a moment to collect her thoughts.

 

Mindy started to get up, and Danny looked at her questioningly. She was leaving him _now_? “I think I’m just going to take a few minutes to freshen up, that okay?”

 

Mindy caught Paul’s eye and motioned with her head, but Paul turned to Christina for direction, confused. “Do you want me to … do you want a few minutes to talk to Danny alone?” Christina nodded, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek before going.

 

“Real subtle, Paul,” Mindy said under her breath. As she walked away, she squeezed Danny’s shoulder and leaned in close to his ear. “You got this.”

 

“And then there were two,” he commented once he and Christina were alone, his heart thumping weirdly in his chest.

 

“Probably better this way,” Christina said with a weak smile. She took another drink of wine. “Okay, well … you remember you were in medical school. And you weren’t around much.”

 

“I was studying. That’s what medical school is.”

 

“I’m not _blaming_ you. I’m just stating facts. You were studying, and I had all this time to myself, when I wasn’t working. And I was really lonely. And I realized I didn’t have any idea who I was.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” Danny said without thinking.

 

“And, this is why I never talked to you about it,” she snapped.

 

“I’m sorry. I do want to hear this, I swear. I won’t interrupt again.”

 

After a moment, she began again. “We were so young. All I’d ever been was Danny’s girlfriend, Danny’s wife, then a doctor’s wife, which seemed like this thing I should really want, but I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t want to be just that.”

 

“That’s ridiculous,” he blurted out again. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean that, I didn’t mean to say that. What I meant was, that’s ridiculous. You were always _Christina_. You were smart and funny and caring, and … and … I _loved_ you. Yeah, I was away studying a lot, doing my residency, but I was working so hard for this life we were going to have. For _both_ of us.”

 

So much for being tongue-tied. Now he was saying more than he’d meant to, and louder than he’d meant to say it. He looked up to see the waitress hovering by the table with a pitcher of water and glared at her. “I’ll come back,” she said, and hurried away.

 

“I’m sorry,” Christina said quietly, her eyes all shiny, and he felt like shit for unloading on her.

 

“ _I’m_ sorry,” he said, pressing his hands into his forehead. “It’s all old news, long over and done. And I’m okay, I am. Just seeing you … it’s bringing it all to the surface again.”

 

“I know what you mean.”

 

“And Paul?” he couldn’t help but ask. He might as well hear all of it.

 

“We were just friends for a long time, just talking. I know that doesn’t make it any better.”

 

“Friends who fell for each other,” he mumbled, understanding even though he didn’t want to. “So, what, so, you know who you are with Paul?”

 

Christina furrowed her brow uncertainly. “Paul’s less rigid. I don’t mean that in a good or bad way. You’re very confident. You’re Danny Castellano, and I found that overpowering. He’s … well, he’s just more easygoing. He doesn’t have a big plan for how our lives are going to go, and I like that, because I don’t know either. I don’t even know if I want kids, and he’s fine with that. We’re going to do some traveling for a while, I might go to grad school …”

 

“You don’t want kids?” Danny stared at her, suddenly wondering if he really ever knew this woman as well as he thought he had. When had she changed her mind? Why had she never told him?

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“But you knew _I_ wanted kids.”

 

She nodded. “It was one of the reasons I think we were never going to work out.”

 

He swallowed hard and looked away, realizing she was right—they married young, they drifted apart, they wanted different things. They were never going to work out, Paul or no Paul.

 

He felt Mindy’s reassuring hand on his back as she came up behind him. “Everything okay?” she asked.

 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Just give me one minute, and I’ll meet you out front, okay?”

 

It was time, he knew. He needed to wish her well and let her go.

 

“You know, I never thought I’d be saying this, but I really hope you and Paul …” He grunted. “Well, you know. I don’t want you to be miserable forever.”

 

“Thank you,” she said sincerely, like his approval was the only thing she’d come back for, and it surprised him. He hadn’t realized she still cared one way or the other about what he thought. “I know Paul and I made such a huge mess of things, and I ruined all your plans, and it was a stupid, selfish thing to invite you here tonight. But I’m really glad you came.”

 

“Yeah,” Danny said, swallowing hard to push the lump back down his throat.

 

“Mindy seems great. She’s so vibrant and sure of herself. I can see how you two would do really well together. And the way you look at each other … it’s obvious, she makes you happy. I’m glad.”

 

“Obvious, huh?” Danny couldn’t help but laugh. With everything on the table, it seemed hardly worth holding up the fiction at this point. “We’re not actually together, you know. She’s a friend.”

 

“I suspected,” Christina admitted with a smile.

 

Of course she had. “Yeah. You’re smart like that.”

 

“You should tell her, though.”

 

That caught him off guard, and he flinched, unsure why the idea bothered him so much.

 

“ … maybe.”

 

Outside, they said their goodbyes, and he hugged Christina and wished her luck, which felt strange. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see her again. Watching her walk away and get into a taxi with Paul, it felt like a world was ending … but not necessarily in a bad way.

 

“You okay?” Mindy asked.

 

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he said.

 

She smiled sideways at him, sympathetically, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her. “But in a good way, right?” she asked.

 

He took mental stock, like he was doing the emotional equivalent of checking each extremity, looking for anything broken. Nothing seemed to be too damaged or missing—he supposed time would tell. “I don’t know yet.”

 

He started to walk with her, and she slid her arm around his waist comfortingly. Instinctively, he put his arm around her shoulder and let himself lean into her as they started toward her apartment. It felt good—reassuring. Like feeling the solid ground under his feet after stepping off a particularly bumpy flight.

 

“I milked Paul for all the info I could get, and sadly, I cannot report that Christina is or has ever been addicted to any form of drug, illicit or pharmaceutical,” Mindy said.

 

He shook his head, laughing, starting to feel a little steadier now that this dreaded evening was over. “That’s okay.”

 

They walked along in easy silence for several minutes.

 

“Do you find me overpowering?” Danny asked suddenly, the things that Christina had said still lodged uncomfortably in his brain.

 

“Overpowering, what do you mean? Like, if we arm-wrestled, would you win? Probably.”

 

Danny laughed, slightly embarrassed. “No … my personality. Never mind, it’s just something Christina said.”

 

She was quiet for a moment, and he thought she was letting it drop, but no such luck. “You’re _loud_. Opinionated. Stubborn as all get out.”

 

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to—” The last thing he need right now was a critique of his personality.

 

“But no, I don’t find you overpowering,” Mindy finished. She shook her head like the thought was amusing to her, and something else Christina had said popped into his head—that Mindy seemed so sure of herself. That they might do well together because of that.

 

The idea made his lightheaded, and he pushed it back down, out of sight.

 

The night air was chilly, making an easy excuse to stay close to her, keeping his arm around her shoulder and holding her against his side. They kept walking like that until Danny unthinkingly dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He hadn’t meant to do it. He’d just turned his head and it was there.

 

Mindy paused and turned toward him on the sidewalk, her brow furrowed.

 

“Danny, did you mean the stuff you said?”

 

“Which stuff?” he said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. He felt cold all the sudden, since they’d separated.

 

“The stuff, the important stuff you said back there at dinner, the things you said about _me_ ,” she said.

 

“I don’t know why anyone would ever think of you as self-centered,” he cracked, deflecting.

 

“Hey. Not cool.”

 

“Sorry. Yeah … yeah, I guess I did.” He pushed his shoulders up defensively.

 

“Which things?” she pressed him.

 

He turned half away from her, kicking a rock on the sidewalk. “What, you want me to say them again?” It was different now, now that they were out from under the cloak of pretense, and he felt caught and exposed, especially since he’d had his arm around her for several blocks just now, for no real reason. “Okay, fine. I think you’re a good person, most of the time, and I felt a spark the other day, for a moment on the airplane, and no, I don’t know what it means. Probably nothing.”

 

He hazarded a glance in her direction, and she was staring at him intently, but he couldn’t read her expression, and now his palms were sweating like crazy.

 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” she said quietly.

 

_Then the music swelled, and someone fell down_ , he thought sardonically.

 

“Feel what way? It was probably just the turbulence.” Turbulence that hadn’t really let up for two days straight.

 

“Okay, look, you’re obviously very confused right now,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’ve been on an emotional rollercoaster for days. And I have a boyfriend, and you were dating my friend up until a few weeks ago. And this whole fake couple thing has maybe gotten a little out of hand.”

 

Suddenly he felt nervous she was going to slam the door on this thing before they even knew it was, just because it didn’t conform to her ideals of how things should happen. Which was absurd, because it’s not like he wanted the door open either. He didn’t know _what_ he wanted. Except that maybe he wanted to go back to having her arm around him again, but that was just part of the pretending that started blurring over inconveniently into real life.

 

“So I think we should table this,” she said, and for a moment he was relieved she wasn’t going to press the issue tonight after all. “Give it a month, and then—you’ve seen _Sleepless in Seattle_ , right? Or _An Affair to Remember_?”

 

He’d seen both, and he didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

 

“Maybe tonight’s not the best night to get into this. That’s fine. It’s been an intense night for you,” Mindy said. “So give it a month, and then, if you want, meet me at the top of the Empire—”

 

“We’re not meeting at the top of the Empire State Building. That’s ridiculous,” Danny spat out.

 

“Why not? It’s just a place to talk. I’m not saying we have to—”

 

“At the top of the Empire State Building? You know what happens when you get your expectations up like that? Deborah Kerr never shows up. She’s hit by a car and she can’t walk. Is that a happy ending?” Mindy opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “ _Sleepless in Seattle_. They live on opposite sides of the country, and he’s basically still in love with his dead wife. What do you think happens? They live happily ever after?”

 

“You don’t know—”

 

“I do know. I _know_.” It was harsh, he knew, but it was her fault for talking about unrealistic fantasies on a night when he’d said goodbye to the woman he’d thought had been the love of his life.

 

She was still looking at him skeptically. “What happened to the guy who said bad things are always going to happen?”

 

“Bad things _do_ happen,” Danny muttered.

 

“It sounded better somehow the last time said it.”

 

“What are you even talking about?”

 

“At my Christmas party. When you were saying all those things … after Josh left.”

 

Now he remembered, vaguely. He’d felt bad for her and just wanted to say something nice to help her feel better. She remembered that?

 

“Look … maybe Christina wasn’t the one for you,” she said. “It doesn’t mean someone else won’t be. You’re a …” She gestured vaguely at his entire person. “ … a catch. For someone.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her delivery, even as it he did appreciate the sentiment. “For someone?”

 

“Sure, maybe. So all I’m saying is, give it a month, and if you feel like it, you have the option—”

 

His eyes widened at her, and he put his hands back in his pockets. “Oh, you think _you’re_ the someone?” It came out sounding less surprised and more skeptical than he’d meant it, and she recoiled, visibly hardening toward him.

 

“I don’t know. Who knows, I probably won’t even be there. I might be in love with Casey by then.”

 

“That guy?” Danny shook his head disbelievingly. “No. You’re not going to fall in love with him.”

 

“Maybe. I might fall in love with him and convert to Christianity, you don’t know. I guess you’ll have to show up in a month if you want to find out.”

 

He half believed Mindy actually might be interested in talking about this—she _was_ the type to try to overanalyze every little thing that happened—and half suspected this was some elaborate trick to catch him out and laugh at him.

 

“I’m not going to—”

 

“I think you’ll be there,” she said smugly. “Waiting at the top of the Empire State Building for me.”

 

“You’re going to be the one who’s up there waiting. And you’re going to be waiting a long time,” Danny countered. And she would be, if she was waiting for the Hollywood version.

 

Mindy shook her head, her dark eyes narrowing to slits. “I don’t think so. I think you have feelings for me. And when you’re less confused, you’re going to want to find out if I have feelings for you. I don’t know, do I?”

 

Did she?

 

No. He wasn’t going to fall for this.

 

“That’s not going to happen.”

 

“We’ll see. You’ll be running through the city, cutting in line—”

 

“That’s not the way it happens.”

 

“How does it happen, then? What do you want, Danny? You want never to talk about this?”

 

“No. Yeah. I don’t know.” He threw up his hands in frustration. What did she want from him? All he’d done tonight was confront things and talk about things. He’d had enough with talking.

 

“You’re going to just ignore it, hope it goes away? Why can’t we just—”

 

As if she was queen of not ignoring things. He’d show her who wasn’t ignoring things. Impulsively, he stepped forward quickly, closing the distance between them, put a hand on either side of her face and kissed her.

 

At first her lips were still attempting to form words, and her hands stopped their gesturing to flap comically at her sides, and he had the horrifying thought that this was exactly the wrong thing to do. It was like he’d called her bluff only to find out she actually held all the cards.

 

But then she opened her mouth and kissed him back, softening against him, and he still wasn’t sure this was the right thing to do, but he was doing it, he was kissing Mindy Lahiri, and it felt shockingly _good_. He hadn’t known it was going to feel this good, and now he didn’t want to stop. She looped her hands into the back of his hair, and he put his arms around her, sinking more fully into the warm curves of her body as he started to explore the contours of her mouth.

 

Just as he was deepening the kiss, she turned her face to the side and dropped her hands, and his mouth slid sloppily over her cheek. Embarrassed, Danny jerked backward, and they went from wrapped around each other to a yard away in an instant.

 

“Why did you do that?” Mindy asked, her eyes wide and stricken looking.

 

It figured. She’d make out with just about any guy who came along—Stevie, DeLaurier, _a male prostitute_ —but one kiss from him, and she looked like that.

 

“Because that’s real life, Mindy,” he snapped. “It doesn’t happen on the top of the Empire State Building. It happens here, down on the sidewalk, and it’s _messy_.” He raked his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.

 

And because he’d wanted to. What was going on? They’d just been pretending, and it had gone to his head, and in his confused state he’d taken it too far. That’s all it was.

 

She was still looking at him inquisitively, her expression more amused now, which was almost worse than her first reaction. “So, what, now … this sad little patch of sidewalk is going to be a significant moment in our story, Danny? I don’t see how _that’s_ better.”

 

“No.” What? Like it mattered where they were standing. “We don’t have a story. There’s no _our_. There’s no _us_. Forget it.”

 

“Okaaaaaay …” she said quietly, starting to walk again. He fell into step beside her, close but conspicuously not touching. “I don’t know why you’re yelling at me. You’re the one who kissed me.”

 

He grunted. “You’re the one wearing that dress and making eyes at me all night. You haven’t been able to keep your hands off me.”

 

“You asked me to wear this dress,” she pointed out. “I’ve been doing you a favor. I was acting.”

 

“Well, good, you’re a really good actress.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, like he’d actually given her a compliment.

 

“This whole night was a terrible idea,” he muttered under his breath.

 

“It was not a terrible idea,” she retorted. “Everyone got along. She totally bought what we were selling. You’re way better looking than Paul. And you got closure with Christina. Success!”

 

“Closure?” he repeated, wrinkling his nose. “Nobody gets closure. That’s still not a thing.”

 

“Of course you got closure,” Mindy said. “You confronted your ex and you had a conversation, after which you felt worse but will eventually, soon probably, feel better. Now you get to move on, for real move on instead of pretend move on.”

 

“Maybe.” The thing was, he was never not going to be divorced from Christina—that was always going to be a part of him, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. He couldn’t just draw a line and not have her exist on the other side of it. He wondered if after tonight he’d find a way to be okay with that.

 

They started walking again, side by side but no longer touching, and he noticed she kept glancing at him sideways.

 

“What?” he finally said.

 

“Nothing. Nothing. It’s just, you have a really big mouth. I don’t mean you’re loud—I mean physically … you have a _large mouth_. Has anyone ever told you that? I never noticed.”

 

He eyed her warily. “Yeah, I get that all the time. People say it goes well with my weird body. Proportionally speaking.”

 

She giggled at his sarcasm, and he smiled at her. He’d appreciate not having to hear any more commentary on the subject from her, but at least the relative lightness of the moment felt a little bit more normal. Maybe he wouldn’t need that Hemlock capsule hidden behind his ear after all.

 

When they reached her building, he followed her up the steps, and she looked at him questioningly as she paused with her key outside the door.

 

He didn’t know what to say to erase all the weirdness he’d stirred up and get them back to that place they were in earlier in the evening, when she was helping him and touching him reassuringly and none of it had to mean anything.

 

“Thanks for tonight,” Danny said, shifting awkwardly from side to side. “I hope I didn’t screw anything up for you with Casey.”

 

“I don’t see why,” she said. “You were the one who kissed me. I wasn’t even into it.”

 

Okay, seriously? “You kissed me back.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m not an ice queen.”

 

“This is ridiculous. This whole thing was your idea. _You_ started this. _You_ grabbed _my_ hand.”

 

_The first two times._

 

She widened her big brown eyes at him and shrugged, resting her hand on her hip. “Okay. If that makes you feel better, Danny.”

 

He laughed humorlessly at that. “No, you know what would make me feel better? If you would stop doing _this_.”

 

He reached for her hand and moved it away from her hip, hearing her sharp intake of breath.

 

Now he had a hold of her wrist and he was standing really close to her and he knew he should probably just put it down and step back. Instead he froze, waiting to see what she would do.

 

Mindy’s eyes darted down to the spot where his fingers were encircling her wrist and then back up to his eyes. She seemed to be barely breathing, waiting for him to do something, her lips slightly parted, and he realized something.

 

“You kissed me back,” he said again, his voice low and quiet this time. He rubbed a thumb experimentally against the inside of her wrist, hearing her breath catch, and pressed it back into the door behind her.

 

She didn’t answer him, but her eyes flicked down to his lips tellingly, and he smiled.

 

“And you were into it,” he murmured, more certain of himself this time. Slowly, almost absent-mindedly, he dragged her hand up the door until it was slightly over her head and leaned into her.

 

He raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her to say it.

 

“Maybe,” she admitted, biting her lip, her eyes glittering.

 

He grinned victoriously and then lowered his mouth onto hers. She kissed him immediately this time, enthusiastically even, and pressed her body full against his. He explored her mouth hungrily, letting the feel of her blot out everything else in his mind. She felt different from any woman he’d ever been with, curvy and warm and soft, somehow both familiar and surprising at the same time, and he wanted to feel all of her.

 

Forgetting where they were or even who they were, he let his hands slide down her body, brushing the sides of her breasts, down to her hips, letting his hands slide around to—

 

Suddenly, she laughed, and the kiss was broken. Startled, he stepped backward, breathing shakily, more affected than he wanted to be. He swiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and glared at her uncertainly. What now?

 

“I just remembered who you are,” she said, still giggling slightly, and he stared at her. “The butt grab. Your move. It just totally took me out of it. Danny Castellano was grabbing my ass.”

 

“That’s not my move. That’s not the way the move goes,” he said, completely flustered. “There’s a whole … never mind.”

 

She shrugged, smiling, and he realized she wasn’t making fun of him—she was just as weirded out by this whole situation as he was.

 

They eyed each other uncertainly for a few more seconds, and he considered whether he could get away with trying to kiss her again without really starting anything he wasn’t ready for, but the mood had been broken.

 

It was probably just as well. She’d been right about one thing—he was in no shape for this tonight.

 

“I’m sorry if I messed anything up for you and Casey,” he repeated, and she actually looked a little worried about that when he mentioned it this time.

 

“Well, you could stop grabbing me and kissing me, and that might help,” she mused.

 

“Right,” he said, racking his brain for something to say to explain that away. “I don’t know what came over me.” _Twice_ , now.

 

“It happens. Sometimes men are just overcome with sexual desire for me.” She was trying to play it off too—he didn’t know how he felt about that. Disappointed maybe, but he didn’t want to think about why.

 

“Okay,” she said after a moment. “Well, I’m going to go inside now.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah.” The thought of having to see her at work tomorrow gave him a sinking, panicky feeling. Suddenly he wished he could take back … pretty much everything.

 

“Good night, Danny.” She looked him over uncertainly. “You going to be okay?”

 

He wondered if he said he wasn’t, if she’d invite him in.

 

The momentary thought was as alarming as it was interesting to him. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Good night, Min.”

 

She nodded and unlocked her door, disappearing through it, with a quick backward glance that was filled with questions to which he had zero answers. When she was gone, Danny leaned his forehead against the side of the building. He breathed in and breathed out, then breathed in and out again.

 

He felt just as unsettled now as he had been at the start of the evening, but now it was like all his emotions had been knocked around and shifted into unfamiliar places, and he didn’t recognize any of them.

 

When he felt a little steadier, he made his way down the steps, turned left on the sidewalk, and flagged a taxi. What he really needed was coffee and sleep—maybe not in that order.

 

***

 

Danny was usually the first doctor to arrive at the practice in the morning; he liked to stay on top of his paperwork and look over his patients’ files before seeing them. But on Wednesday, for the second time that week, he let himself sleep in a little and take a longer than usual shower, giving the sharp streams of water extra time to slowly beat the cobwebs out of his head and trying not to think about that night a few weeks ago when Mindy had been standing in here with him.

 

If this kept up, he was going to have to remodel his bathroom.

 

Of course his “late” was Mindy’s “right on time,” which he realized as soon as he was approaching the elevator and saw her already inside.

 

He stopped in his tracks for a second, and Mindy’s eyes widened before she scrambled to hit a button—a split second later, he found out she was holding the door for him, not the opposite.

 

That was something, at least. It could have gone either way.

 

He stepped onto the elevator and felt immediately enveloped in tension—and not a pleasantly buzzing beginning-romance tension, but an awkward, things-are-never-going-to-be-the-same kind of tension. It made him nervous.

 

Mindy was alternately staring at the floor numbers lighting up and sneaking furtive glances at him, which weren’t so furtive because he was watching her too. She looked just as jumpy as he felt.

 

“Late night. I accidentally slept in,” he said, by way of explaining why he’d shown up just in time to make her elevator ride as uncomfortable as possible.

 

“Yeah, same,” she said, giving him a weird, half-amused look, and he realized how silly he sounded since they’d been together for that late night. And he’d just reminded her of that.

 

Not that she would have forgotten.

 

The elevator landed on their floor, and he followed her out to the reception desk, where she put on her reading glasses to look at the messages Betsy handed her. She seemed to be making a point of acting normal, which was what he should probably be doing too, but at the moment, he couldn’t remember what normal was.

 

“Good morning, Dr. C,” Betsy said, “there’s someone waiting for you—”

 

His heart skipped a beat, and Danny glanced quickly back toward his office, but no ghosts from his past were there this time.

 

“—in exam room 2,” Betsy was saying. “A Mrs. Miller, a new patient. Morgan’s in taking her history, and they should be ready for you in a few minutes.”

 

He breathed out. “Good, that’s good,” he said. “Could you go check on Morgan for me, make sure he’s not doing anything weird … or weirder than usual?”

 

After Betsy walked away, he could feel Mindy watching him, and he felt suddenly self-conscious about the fact that he didn’t really have any reason to be standing here. Then again, she didn’t either at this point, and he didn’t want her to walk away just yet.

 

“You look nice today,” he stalled, and she did look good—more monochromatic than usual, and he wondered if that was for him. “I like the glasses.”

 

He meant that—she wore her glasses when she worked, and she was good at her work, focused and smart, and that’s how she looked when she had them on.

 

Mindy narrowed her eyes at him, not unhappily necessarily, but suspiciously. “They’re prescription,” she said.

 

“I know.” He smiled softly at her and lifted a hand to brush the side of the frames with his thumb, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

 

Her mouth opened, and he jerked his hand backward, putting it into his pocket. He watched her mouth snap shut and then open again.

 

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said abruptly. “Get in here.” She jerked her head toward her office, indicating he should follow her there.

 

“I have a patient,” he protested weakly, even as he was following her. Mrs. Miller could wait a minute.

 

Mindy shut the door behind him, and he looked at her expectantly, surprised she was choosing to be enclosed in another small space with him after the whole elevator awkwardness.

 

“Okay, Danny, I don’t know what you’re doing, but you have to _stop_.”

 

“What, what am I doing?” he said defensively, even as his plausible deniability was drying up fast—even to himself.

 

“You know what you’re doing,” she said in a hissingly loud whisper. “I know this thing with your ex was difficult, but you can’t just go around working out your issues on other people’s faces! I’m nobody’s rebound girl.”

 

“I wasn’t …” he started to protest, but honestly, he couldn’t say for sure that that wasn’t exactly what he was doing. The idea made his uneasy—like it might put him the same category of dick that she usually ended up with. He didn’t know what he wanted to be to her, but he definitely didn’t want to be _that_.

 

“I have a boyfriend,” she hissed. “And no, he’s not perfect, but who is?” Danny flinched as she gestured vaguely toward him as she said that. “And he likes me. And I think I like him. And you don’t know everything about it.”

 

He wondered fleetingly if this meant the Empire State Building thing wasn’t happening. Not that he wanted that to happen. You can’t schedule a time and a place for something like that, like it’s a racquetball game or something.

 

It occurred to him she’d never mentioned a specific date or time, and he’d never be able to ask.

 

“I never _said_ anything about it. Just … forget it, okay?”

 

He threw his hands up and turned away from her toward the door, to mask his disappointment. Disappointed about _what_ , he wasn’t sure—it wasn’t like he’d wanted her to dump Casey and start dating him. They’d fight all the time. They’d annoy each other constantly. She wasn’t even Catholic. It made no sense.

 

“No, don’t …” Mindy trailed off, and he paused, waiting for her to say something. “Look, what are you doing for lunch today?”

 

_That_ threw him.

 

“Lunch? I don’t know … probably order a sandwich, eat in my office. I have some paperwork to catch up on.”

 

“Good!” Mindy said, sounding more excited than the information warranted. “I’m working through lunch too. We should get some sandwiches, hang out.”

 

“Hang out?” Danny asked, dumbfounded. “After …?” He gestured vaguely between them, once again reminding her of the thing he didn’t want to remind her of.

 

“So we made out! Okay, it happens. It’s not like we hooked up.” She sounded a little desperate, like she might be trying to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal as much as him. “I don’t want things to be weird. I mean, we’re friends still, right?”

 

The way she was looking at him, that actually seemed really important to her, and there was something that struck him as kind of amazing about that—that as much as they got on each other’s nerves sometimes, she wasn’t willing to throw it all in because of some awkwardness.

 

Which he didn’t want to do either. Between the Sante Fe trip and the whole weird date thing, he’d actually gotten pretty used to having her around.

 

So, what then? They were friends who happened to be attracted to each other—okay. He thought he might be able to ignore the second part if he could keep the first.

 

“Yeah, okay … lunch then.” To prove how okay he was with this idea, he took it one step further. “You go ahead and order. You know what I like.”

 

It was a rare person he’d let order his sandwich. And as bizarre as it was, that person was Mindy.

 

“It’s a date!” She grinned at him, before realizing how that sounded and sucking in her lips. “I mean … not an _actual_ date,” she amended.

 

Almost choking on nothing, Danny nodded and let himself out.

 

On his way to see Mrs. Miller, he stopped by his own office to just quickly drop off his briefcase, put his hands to his face, and let out a quick silent scream. Then he straightened up, took a few calming breaths, and set off for Exam Room 2.

 

One thing hadn’t changed, at least. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to survive being friends with Mindy Lahiri.


End file.
